


Dennis Gets Murked

by macdennies



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Episode: s01e01 The Gang Gets Racist, M/M, Paddy's Pub: Still The Hottest Gay Bar in Philadelphia, Violence, dennis is a brat, emotionally repressed homosexuals, homophobic slurs & violence, mac is somewhat sane, mac isn't happy about it, the end of that episode NEVER HAPPENS, the gang goes along with the gay bar scheme, this was supposed to be a one-shot but i got carried away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-15 20:17:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21259058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macdennies/pseuds/macdennies
Summary: Paddy's Pub is the hottest gay bar in Philadelphia. Everyone is on board for it except Mac, who suspects something sinister is brewing beneath the influx of cash and attention. Mac's attempts to keep Dennis safe from harm backfire, and they both have to deal with the repercussions in their own ways.





	1. Chapter 1

**3:15AM**

**On a Friday**

“255, 260, and… That’s $310!” Dennis beamed at the fanned-out stack of money in his hand, accumulated from a very successful night of bartending at “_Philadelphia’s Hottest Gay Bar _”- none other than Paddy’s Irish Pub itself.

Ever since the _ Philadelphia Tribune’s _ spotlight article on Paddy’s success as a queer hotspot, the old dump had been raking in a steady stream of customers- both men _ and _ women. Once decided upon that the gang would see where this business venture took them, it had been nothing but cash money ever since.

Dee glanced back and forth between her (slightly smaller) wad of tips and Dennis’. “Who the hell gave you a fifty dollar bill?” She asked incredulously.

“No idea, but that’s the third crisp fifty I’ve gotten this week!” Dennis boasted, a triumphant smile spread across his face as he held the cash up to the overhead office light, taking in all its glory.

“Maybe it’s one of our regulars.” Charlie pointed out. He was half-seated on the office desk, his hand in a bowl of peanuts. “Probably that creepy old biker dude that sits at the bar for _ hours _ every night.”

“_Ooh, _ Dennis has a sugar daddy!” Dee sang teasingly.

“I do _ not_-”

“Seriously, guys, Charlie has a point.” Mac finally spoke up from his seat at the office chair. His arms were crossed over his chest and his brows knit into a frown. “If Dennis is getting these huge tips from some secret admirer, shouldn’t we be amping up security around here?”

“_Hrm _. Not following.” Charlie said through a mouthful of peanuts.

Mac let out an irritated sigh. “I’m just saying, we’re getting a _ lot _ of new business here, and I don’t want Denn..._anyone _ getting hurt.” He stumbled over his words, not wanting to seem like he cared about Dennis _ that _much.

“Wait, who’s Dennyone?” Charlie cocked an eyebrow at Mac’s strange choice of words.

Dennis laughed dismissively. “Mac, do you _ really _ think you’d be an effective security guard here?” He tucked his stack of money into his wallet and trained his eyes on Mac. “We’ve got some big guys that come to this bar- I’m talkin’ bears, twunks, wolves, you name it."

Mac just rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. None of them were _ getting _it.

“Mac’s just jealous because we’re getting more tips than him.” Dee said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, man, if you just play into the part and let go of that…” Dennis waved his arms in Mac’s direction. “That whole _ tough guy _ act, you might actually make more than fifty bucks a night.”

Mac huffed, uncrossing his arms. “First of all, I _ am _ tough.” He stood from the office desk. “And I’m not going to pretend to be something I’m _ clearly _ not just to make slightly more money than I was making before!”

Dennis scoffed. “_Slightly _?” He thumbed through the ridiculous amount of cash in his wallet. “I almost have enough saved up to get a fuckin’ RPG, man.”

“I’m thinking about getting one of those new Mini Coopers.” Dee folded her wad of tips and stuffed it into her pocket, giving Mac an all-too-smug smirk.

Mac, thoroughly pissed that no one would even _ consider _ his ideas, headed for the office door. “Whatever, assholes.” He said, turning around to catch Dennis’ gaze. “If you- _ any of you_\- get murked outside Paddy’s, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

As the door swung shut behind Mac, the remaining three of the gang exchanged dubious, amused looks.

Dennis smirked and shook his head. “None of us are gonna get _ murked_.”

_ **"Dennis Gets Murked"** _

_ **It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first Macden fic, go easy on me!  
Also there are 6 chapters, so stay tuned :^)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some strong homophobic language in this chapter, just a warning.

**11:42PM**

**On a Saturday**

Something about watching Dennis flirt with every single man at the bar made Mac’s blood boil. The fake persona he put on, his stupid tank top, the way his sweat seemed to reflect the light off his skin _ just right _ so he looked like he was glowing. Mac sat begrudgingly at a booth behind the pool table, as far away from the commotion as possible. It was as if every guy there came to see Dennis.

Dee sauntered around the tables across from the bar, cracking jokes with short-haired women dressed in flannels and ripped jeans. Mac could care less about her. He was pretty sure she was a carpet-muncher, anyways. She fit the stereotype seamlessly.

But Dennis wasn’t even _ remotely _ gay. Moreso, he was pretty sure Dennis had called him a fag once in high school for “_spending too much time with Charlie _”. In retrospect, Mac was pretty sure Dennis had just been jealous that Charlie was a better friend.

Charlie, meanwhile, was seated at the bar, chatting it up with a group of guys that were probably asking a million questions about Dennis. Mac could almost hear them if he focused hard enough.

“_Does Dennis have a boyfriend? _”

“_What kind of car does Dennis drive?” _

_ “How late will Dennis be here?” _

_ “How big is his-” _

Dennis, Dennis, Dennis. It was always, _ all about Dennis_. It almost made Mac sick to see his best friend stoop this low. He wasn’t even entirely sure why. The bar was doing great, business was fantastic, yet… Something about the whole situation made Mac’s stomach turn.

So transfixed on Dennis, Mac hadn’t even realized someone had sat down across from him in the booth. He almost jumped at the sight of the guy, fairly scrawny with dark brown hair and carved cheekbones. He would’ve been pretty attractive, had it not been for the chunky glasses that made his entire face look… _ Off_.

“Is this seat taken, pretty boy?” The guy sat down before Mac could answer, flashing a smile that looked vaguely similar to someone he knew. He couldn’t put a name to it.

Mac just sighed and leaned back in the seat. “You gonna buy me a drink or what?” He raised his brows expectantly. He was already feeling warm from several beers already in his system, but another couldn’t hurt.

The guy laughed, not getting the hint, as his whole body moved forward to lean onto the table. “I don’t even know your name yet, babe.”

Mac was not down for the pet names. He wasn’t down for this _ guy_, either, at least not with those horrendous glasses that took up a good _ third _of his face.

“Mac.” He introduced himself curtly. “I’ll take a beer.”

“_Mac_, huh?” The guy smiled. “I’m Derek.” He stared at Mac with a fascination that Mac could not process without triggering his gag reflex.

“A beer would be great, _ Derek_.” Mac’s gaze trailed back to Dennis at the bar. He was twirling around to get some guy a new drink. Something fluttered in the pits of Mac’s stomach, but he just brushed it off as nausea. Yeah, that was it. Dennis was _ nauseating_.

And apparently, Derek was still talking.

“... So do you come here often?” He asked, like an idiot.

Mac reluctantly drew his focus back to Derek. “I’m one of the owners.” He said, his voice monotone and unamused.

“Oh, _ really? _ ” Derek’s smirk spread into a smile. Oh, yeah. He was _ definitely _ intrigued now. “So you know that bartender over there?”

_Of course. _Mac had a feeling that’s where the conversation would end up. “Yep, okay, that’s my cue to leave.” Mac huffed as he stood up, grabbing his leather jacket and slinging it over one shoulder.

“Hey, wait- I didn’t mean to offend you-” The Derek guy stood and followed Mac on his way out of the bar. “I don’t get it, is he, like, your _ boyfriend _or something?”

Mac halted, now having attracted quite a crowd of onlookers, and turned to face this _ Derek _ asshole. “He’s _ not _ my boyfriend, I’m not _ gay_, and neither is _ he_!” Mac snapped, raising his voice quite a bit. Derek stood shell-shocked in front of him.

Mac turned back around and stormed out of the bar, the tiny bell on the doorframe signaling his exit. The constant hum of bar commotion muffled as he stepped out into the night. His and Dennis’ apartment wasn’t far from the bar- technically, he could walk home.

Before he could decide, however, the bell above the door rang again and Mac was just about ready to deck Derek in the face if he even had the audacity to-

“_Dennis _?” Mac’s face screwed up into a mixture of confusion and exasperation.

“What are you doing out here, man?” Dennis threw his hands up, but his expression didn’t pose a threat. He wasn’t angry, for once. Just perplexed.

“I could ask you the same question.” Mac retorted, crossing his arms.

“_No, _ you can’t, I’m out here because you stormed out!” Dennis was getting irritated, but Mac couldn’t care less. He wasn’t going to sit around at the bar all night, trying to burn holes in Dennis’ back with his eyes.

“You have a bar to tend to,” Mac waved him off. “I’m sure your _ fans _ miss you already.”

Dennis gave him a bewildered look. “_My_ _fans_\- Mac, is this _jealousy_ or some shit?” He let out a tense laugh.

“_No _ , it's not _ jealousy_!” Mac was quick to defend his hererosexuality. That _ was_, after all, the reason he left in the first place. “Why would I be jealous of you and your fucking _ fag parade, _ anyways?”

Dennis looked genuinely hurt by Mac’s sudden explosion. His mouth hung open ever so slightly, his features softened by the green and blue fluorescent signs that shone into the night.

“Where’s all this coming from?” The tone of Dennis’ voice had drastically changed from before, now a delicate, hurt-puppy sort of vibe. Mac hated it when he did that. It always made him feel bad.

“It's nothing, man, I'm just gonna go home.” Mac shook his head and started off in the direction of the apartment.

Dennis said nothing else, just stood outside Paddy’s as Mac left. Mac could feel Dennis’ eyes boring into the back of his head, and he would've shot a glance back if he had anything else on his mind _ other _than the sight of Dennis whoring himself out at the bar for a few fifties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["Pushing away his soulmate, right on schedule... End Act II"]  
I have this whole thing already written out, so let me know if you guys would like to see more :^)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big warning for violence/blood in this chapter!

There was blood. Everywhere. Dennis wasn't exactly positive how he made it home in one piece. His head was spinning from the blunt force of it getting slammed into the concrete sidewalk, his nose was probably broken and gushing blood all over his shirt, and he was pretty sure a few of his ribs were either cracked or at least bruised _ badly_. On top of that, he made the 10 minute drive home in _ half _that time. Just to get away. He swung his Range Rover into its usual parking space outside, slammed the door behind him, and stumbled into the apartment complex with only one thing on his mind: Whiskey.

Everything felt cloudy. Head trauma was one thing, but _ real _ trauma would have him reeling for months- maybe _ years- _after tonight.

He was in the kitchen somehow, fumbling around the liquor cabinet for something that vaguely resembled Jack Daniels. Everything was still spinning, and he missed the shot glass during his first attempt. On the second one, he had hardly finished pouring it before bringing the shot glass of warm liquid to his lips and throwing his head back, shooting it quickly.

A door opened from the other side of the kitchen and Dennis felt a wave of dread wash over him. He poured another shot.

“Dennis?” Mac’s sleepy voice rang through the otherwise silent apartment. “What the hell, man, are you drunk?”

Dennis threw back the second shot of whiskey, his throat burning. “Not yet.” His hand found the glass bottle and he readied up another.

“You sound like hell, Den.” Mac’s voice was closer, but Dennis didn't turn away from the counter. He gripped the bottle harder, knowing his hands would shake if he didn't.

“Go back to bed, man, I'm alright.” Dennis lied, knowing his raspy voice was a dead giveaway. “It’s been a long night. I just need a drink.”

A switch flicked and the oven light turned on, a warm glow casting shadows on Dennis’ bloody hands. He took another shot.

“What happened?” Mac’s voice was delicate, concerned. The last time he heard Mac use _ that _voice was when Dennis got kicked out of his parents’ house and had to throw rocks at Mac’s window just for a place to stay. He didn’t like that voice.

Dennis tried to laugh, but a sharp pain in his ribs made it come out as more of a weak cough. “I just got into an argument with some asshole from the bar, it's nothing.”

Dennis felt a gentle hand on his arm, and then Mac was beside him. Without thinking, Dennis turned to look at his friend, and-

Mac’s entire face fell as if he had seen a ghost. Shock, concern, and then finally, rage.

“I'll fucking kill him.” Mac said almost immediately upon the sight of Dennis’ practically mutilated face.

Dennis tried to turn away, but Mac’s hand on his arm was unmoving. “_C’mon_, man, it was my fault, _ really-_”

“I'll kill him, Dennis, who did this?” Mac pressed, looking quite intimidating for a man in pajamas.

“Just some asshole that wanted to take me home with him, I wasn’t thinking-”

“What did he look like?” Mac gestured for Dennis to give him something_ -anything_\- to identify the guy. “Glasses, dark hair, kinda tall?”

Dennis shook his head, which just made him more dizzy. “Nah, man, he was like… _ Big_.” He didn't want to think about it. “Beard, denim jacket, kinda old.”

“What about his _ face_\- did you see his face?” Mac pressed.

“_Fuck_, man, do you want me to draw him or some shit?” Dennis held a hand up to the throbbing lump on his head, swaying slightly.

Ignoring Dennis’ remark, Mac’s eyes darted across Dennis’ face- his broken nose, his busted lip, his black eye. Dennis knew he looked rough, but he felt even rougher. His entire world was spinning from both his injuries _ and _ the alcohol, and he felt himself rocking back on his heels, watching Mac watch him.

“Do you think you need to go to a hospital?” Mac asked, barely above a whisper. Everything about him was so tender, so _ soft_.

Dennis barely managed to shake his head “_no” _ before he felt himself tipping backwards, _ falling _ backwards, only to be caught by Mac’s hand on his shoulder and an arm slipping around his middle, causing Dennis to wince at the pressure on his ribcage.

“Alright, c’mon, we’re gonna go sit before you pass out on the floor.” Mac supported the majority of Dennis’ body weight as he led the two of them into the living room, letting Dennis down on the leather sofa.

Mac sat close to Dennis at the edge of the couch, a hand still lingering on his waist. Dennis felt himself slipping out of consciousness, coming down from the adrenaline high and riding the taste of whiskey and blood on his tongue.

“Are you _ sure _ you don't need me to take you to the ER?” Mac said distantly, but Dennis was already far off.

“_Mmmhm_.” Dennis rested his head against the back of the couch, feeling his heavy eyelids flutter shut as he focused on the warmth of Mac beside him. _ Warm_. Yeah, that was it. Mac was warm. Dennis could melt in it.

He felt himself doze off as Mac continued to speak, probably asking him more questions he didn't want to answer. Maybe Dennis would cry if he knew how to. Maybe Dennis would do a lot of things. Maybe… 

* * *

Dennis didn’t really get a good look at the guy’s face. The rest of the gang had already gone home by the time Dennis made it out to his car that night, nearing 4:00 in the morning, and he just wanted to get back to the apartment and unwind with a bottle of Jack and his right hand. Out of the shadows emerged a figure- a foreboding silhouette- and Dennis couldn’t even process what he was saying before the guy grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall. 

He had slurred some sort of threat, some sort of “_You’re just a fucking tease, aren’t you?_” before Dennis tried pushing him away and escaping the tight space between the man and the brick wall of Paddy’s. Then, a sharp blow to his face. Then his nose. He heard something crack and he was stumbling backwards, still trying to get away, when he was shoved onto the ground and kicked in the ribs.

He vaguely remembered begging for mercy, some plea to some god, some “_Please stop, please, don’t kill me-_” before his head was abruptly jerked up by his hair and his face promptly slammed into the concrete beneath him. It was nearly enough to knock him out, and for a minute Dennis had just laid there, convinced that his life was at its end.

Images flashed behind his eyelids as the guy proceeded to kick into Dennis’ ribs with what Dennis could only assume to be steel-toed boots. Images of Dee and Charlie. Having laughs throughout the decades they had known each other. Images of Mac, passing him a blunt under the bleachers of the football field. His smile, his eyes, the way he was always genuine no matter what he was doing. An image of a drunken night playing _ spin the bottle _ in the floor of Dee’s apartment. Looking across the circle at Mac, the way his heart skipped a beat, the way he had always silently hoped Mac’s spin would land on him.

If he was going to die that night, he would die as the only person in the world that _ knew_. Something settled in the pit of his stomach as he took blow after blow. He called it _ regret_.


	4. Chapter 4

Mac stirred awake to the sound of some sort of construction going on outside. Light seeped through the cracks in the living room blinds and Mac silently wished he had bought those blackout curtains he saw on sale at Target when they first moved in together. Back when they only had a cardboard box for a dinner table and one mattress to reluctantly share.

He had fallen asleep on the couch, like he had done a million times before. He was halfway slumped over the arm of the sofa, an uncomfortable position to be stuck in for more than an hour- let alone however long he had been asleep.

A light snoring sound drew Mac’s attention to his lap, where Dennis’ head was resting as he slept. Normally, he’d be surprised to wake up to one of his best friends asleep on his lap- but he barely even questioned it, too hazy to be confused, too content to do anything but smile and lean his head on his hand. Mac had brought Dennis one of his blankets the night before. Dennis had wrapped it around himself as he curled up on the couch to use Mac as a pillow, falling asleep as Mac rambled on and on about something or other.

As the events of the previous night came back to him like slowly remembering a drunken one-night stand, Mac’s blood gradually started to boil. Dennis, who was sleeping peacefully in his lap, had gotten busted up pretty bad the night before. Even from Mac’s position above him, he could still see the blood on Dennis’ face and shirt coupled with the bruising that started to form around his eye and his nose.

His neck was sore as all hell from sleeping in such a strange position. Dennis seemed perfectly comfortable, perfectly content to stay right where he was for as long as humanly possible. Looking down at his best friend, Mac felt a sense of… _ Admiration_? Could he call it that? He could’ve sworn he hated this man the night before.

Blood was caked into Dennis’ hairline and, honestly, he looked pretty rough. He definitely needed a shower, or at least a fresh set of clothes. But, for now, Mac decided it was best to let him sleep.

Like a sleeping cat on the lap of an owner that _ really _ has to pee, Dennis was completely unaware that Mac’s bladder was _ screaming_. The beers from the night before were unforgiving, and while he wasn't exactly _ hungover_, he definitely didn't feel 100%.

Trying to use the least amount of movement humanly possible, Mac slowly slid out from underneath Dennis’ sleeping head. Dennis stirred for a moment, making some unhappy grunt, while Mac stood from the couch and carefully tucked a pillow beneath Dennis’ head.

“Thanks.” Dennis mumbled into the pillow.

Mac only hummed in response, not wanting to wake Dennis any further. He made an effort to tread lightly to the bathroom, which was surprisingly difficult given his natural tendency to have heavy footsteps. He looked over his shoulder once, almost as if to make sure Dennis was still there. And he was. _ Of course_. Where else would he be, besides right there, in _ their _ apartment, on _ their _ couch?

Mac felt a ghost of a smile pull at his lips and he shut the bathroom door behind him to take a much-needed piss.

He eyed himself scrutinously in the bathroom mirror as he washed his hands. He needed to clean up his stubble. And maybe get a haircut. Honestly, he was looking pretty scruffy all-around. Mac didn't really care what he looked like most of the time, but he had been thinking lately that he should maybe _ try _ a little more. No specific reason. Just a whim.

Dennis was already awake by the time Mac emerged from the bathroom. To his surprise, Dennis was sitting cross-legged on the couch, gently touching his face.

“How fucked up is my nose?” Dennis said quietly, concentration clear in his face as he gently poked at the bridge of his nose.

Mac circled around the couch, standing opposite Dennis to inspect his face in the natural light of the window. His lip was busted to hell, he had a black eye and a gnarly bruise on the right side of his forehead, but to Mac’s surprise, Dennis’ nose didn't seem to be _ too _ skewed. Definitely swollen and bruised, but not terribly deformed.

“It doesn't look _ that _ bad.” Mac said truthfully. “Do you think it's broken?”

Dennis leaned back on the couch. “Probably.” He sighed. “It was bleeding a lot last night.”

Mac just hummed and continued to watch Dennis as he prodded further at his own face. After a moment, Mac cleared his throat and turned around, heading towards the kitchen.

“I'm gonna make coffee, do you want some?” He asked.

“_Please _.” Dennis called back almost instantly. “And put some rum in it, too. God knows I need it.”

Mac obliged without a second thought. He was pretty sure he'd do anything Dennis asked at this point. A part of him was weighed down with guilt, the idea that if he had just _ stuck around _ until the bar closed, maybe he could've prevented this whole thing from happening. Dennis looked so fragile, so weak, like it wouldn't take much to shatter him into a million pieces. It broke Mac’s heart a little.

After Mac put the coffee on and set out the Bacardi bottle next to two coffee mugs, he returned to the living room to sit next to Dennis on the couch.

Dennis leaned his head back against the cushion and sighed.

“I guess you were right about the whole _ gay bar scheme _ being a bad idea.” He said, defeated. It wasn’t often that Dennis admitted to being wrong.

Mac turned to look at Dennis, only about half a foot away from him despite the couch being big enough to comfortably fit two people with room to spare. “Nah, man, it was a great idea.” 

He felt his arm reaching to pat Dennis’ thigh, and before he could stop himself from doing so, it was too late. Dennis flinched at the sudden touch, and Mac was filled with that same wretched guilt again. Mac took his hand off Dennis’ thigh, returning it to the leather of the couch. Dennis lulled his head to the side to meet Mac’s gaze.

Mac’s eyes tried to look anywhere _ else _ besides Dennis’ face, the dried blood under his nose and on his forehead. But he couldn't peel his eyes away from him.

“I, uh…” Mac cleared his throat and his gaze finally dropped to the bit of couch space between them, his out-of-place hand. “I shouldn't have walked out last night.” He confessed, the shame clear in his voice. “If I hadn't left you there by yourself, then…”

Mac trailed off, having accidentally caught Dennis’ eye again. He seemed perplexed, like he had no clue what Mac was even on about.

“Don't do that.” Dennis shook his head slightly. “You know it's not your fault.”

“I just feel like if I-”

“_Mac _.” Dennis stopped him, moving his hand to cover Mac’s on the couch. He squeezed Mac’s hand slightly, a reassuring grip. “It’s not your fault.”

Mac felt a jolt of electricity surge through his arm as Dennis’ hand tightened around his, and maybe it was supposed to be a _friendly_ gesture but Dennis was _right_ _there. _Mac could feel some sort of gravitational pull between them, drawing him in like a drug, like Dennis was an ice cold bottle of beer after a long day of work. Dennis just smiled, a lopsided, halfhearted smile, his head leaned against the back of the couch, and Mac could swear on his life that he had never felt butterflies in his stomach like he did at that moment.

In some corner of Mac’s mind, it all started to make sense. Why he had been so angry about the _ gay bar scheme_, why seeing Dennis flirt with random guys lit a fire in the pits of Mac’s stomach every night. He wouldn't put a name to it, but it was definitely somehow linked to the dying urge Mac had to simply wrap his arms around Dennis and _ hold _ him.

Lost in thought, Mac was jolted back to reality as the coffee maker beeped in the kitchen. Dennis seemed jarred by the sudden sound as well, breaking the eye contact he and Mac had maintained for a solid minute.

Mac cleared his throat. “Coffee’s done.” He said, standing up.

“Yep.” Dennis agreed, the leather of the couch creaking as he adjusted the way he was sitting. 

The apartment was so quiet sometimes that every sound seemed to echo off the walls. There was no escaping the silence between them, the clinking of a glass coffee pot against a ceramic mug, or the unmistakable footsteps nearing Mac as Dennis found his way to the kitchen.

“Den, I really don’t think you should be-” Mac stopped mid-sentence as he felt Dennis wrap his arms around Mac’s middle, hugging him close from behind. Mac felt the blood rush to his face all at once and he just gripped the coffee pot, letting Dennis embrace him, not wanting to make a wrong move and ruin the whole moment. A few thoughts crossed his mind, something along the lines of _ “is this gay?” _and other, more warm feelings he didn’t want to put a name to.

Dennis pressed his cheek against Mac’s back and let out a slow exhale. Mac stood there, shell-shocked, Dennis’ body heat not coming anywhere near the surface temperature of Mac’s face. Dennis would never do anything remotely like this under normal circumstances. Drunk, maybe. But Dennis wasn’t drunk.

“We should keep the bar closed today.” Dennis said quietly, an afterthought, like he didn’t have his arms wrapped around Mac.

Mac glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. “It’s almost one.” He observed. “Charlie and Dee will probably be there soon.”

Dennis sighed, still unmoving. “I just want to stay here.”

Mac furrowed his brows, feeling compelled to break free of Dennis’ hold and turn around to face him. “You don’t have a _ choice_, Dennis, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you go back there until it’s completely safe.”

Dennis made the most bratty groan Mac had ever heard in his life. _ Yeah_, there he was.

“I mean I want to stay here with _ you_.” Dennis leaned back on the dining table and gave Mac these fucking _ eyes _ that had his heart doing somersalts in his chest.

Mac shook off the feeling and turned around, grabbing Dennis’ coffee and the bottle of Bacardi. “I can’t stay here tonight.” He handed the rum and coffee to Dennis. “I still have some shit to sort out at the bar.”

Dennis smirked, pouring a generous amount of rum into his coffee cup. “By _ sort out_, I’m assuming you mean get the shit kicked out of you by some asshole that’s probably in a biker gang?”

Mac bit the inside of his cheek and shook his head, putting his weight on the kitchen counter behind him. Mac had dealt with his fair share of bullies in his lifetime, and while he had never _ really _ won a fight before, this time was different. It wasn't his own safety he had to worry about. It was _ Dennis_. And Mac had known for a long time, somewhere buried in the depths of his mind, that he would do _ anything _ for Dennis.

“Maybe.” Mac admitted, swirling the coffee around in his mug. “But it won’t be safe for you at the bar until this guy is taken care off.”

Dennis huffed and took a long gulp of his rum and coffee, avoiding Mac’s eyes. His whole aura had completely changed from the soft, sleeping man in Mac’s lap only a few minutes earlier. It was like he was a completely different person.

“It was _ my _ fault, Mac.” Dennis said with a sigh. “I shouldn’t have stuck around that after the bar closed, I should’ve just left with Dee and Charlie.” He took another swig of his _ mixed drink _. “It was stupid of me to be out that late alone.”

“_Don’t- _” Mac felt the pressure of a headache built in the front of his forehead. “Don’t do that.” He set his coffee mug down on the counter behind him. “It wasn’t your fault, Den, I should’ve been there with you.”

“Mac, just- _ stop_, I don’t _ need _ a babysitter-”

“Well _ clearly _ you can’t protect yourself-”

“I can protect myself just fine!” Dennis snapped, raising his voice, a shrill explosion. “I’m _ alive_, aren’t I?”

“_Barely!_” Mac shot back, gesturing to the state of Dennis’ face. “I’m supposed to be the head of fucking security, and the _ one _ time I leave early, you nearly get killed!”

“It’s not _ about _ you!” Dennis threw his hands up, standing from where he was half-seated on the dining table, practically screaming now. “For fuck’s sake, Mac, why do you even _ care _ so much?!”

“Because I-” Mac seemed to choke on his words, abruptly stopping mid-sentence to stare at Dennis, eyes wide, as his voice failed him. Dennis’ face softened for a moment, expecting _ something_, but Mac’s throat closed up around itself and he shut his mouth, shaking his head. Whatever was on the tip of his tongue was inclined to stay there. He wasn’t about to let anything spill.

Dennis breathed out a small, bitter laugh, and dropped his gaze from Mac. “I’m gonna take a shower.” He said, his voice returning to its original state of apathy and false collectedness. “I’ll see you after work, I guess.”

Mac cleared his throat and leaned back against the counter. “Yeah.” He mumbled.

He watched Dennis walk out of the kitchen and through the living room to his own bedroom, the door closing behind him as the apartment returned to its state of uncomfortable silence.

Well, _ fuck_. Mac mentally kicked himself. _ Way to take care of your best friend. _

As Mac collected his and Dennis’ coffee mugs and returned the Bacardi to its original spot in the liquor cabinet, his mind raced through thoughts like he was angrily flipping through radio stations.

Why _ did _ he care so much? _ Because _ he _ what_? Because Dennis was his best friend? His roommate? What was it that made his blood boil at the thought of anyone laying a hand on Dennis?

Deep down, some repressed part of Mac probably knew the answer. And some conscious part of Mac knew that the answer _ definitely _ existed. He didn’t want to think about it, and he let the feeling simmer down into shame, and let that shame boil back up into anger. Anger for the asshole that hurt Dennis, anger for Dennis himself. For putting Mac into this situation. For making Mac feel so strongly about everything. Mac never questioned himself or his motives unless it concerned Dennis.

He cracked open a beer on his way out the door, trying to shake the thoughts from his head. It was going to be a rough night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little OOC but this chapter is longer than usual so I hope it makes up for it!!  
also the comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!!! I always get super excited when I get new comments <3


	5. Chapter 5

Mac kind of hated bartending. He had done it before, and he wasn't half-bad at the job, but he very much preferred to take on the _ bouncer-slash-security guard _ role in Paddy’s Pub. 

Not to mention, he never signed up to bartend at a gay bar. He was uncomfortable enough when _ women _ flirted with him, but men just… Made him feel uneasy. Coupled with the constant weight on the back of his mind that the guy who hurt Dennis was bound to show up at any point, it was safe to say that Mac was not having a good night.

“When the hell is Dennis gonna get here?” Charlie asked in a hushed voice, passing behind Mac with a tray full of empty beer glasses and peanut bowls. 

As far as everyone else knew, Dennis was just _ late_. Maybe hungover, maybe _ with someone_. Rumors spread and died as bar patrons came and went, but Charlie could always tell when something was up.

Mac filled a glass of pale ale from the tap, hardly having to pay attention to it. “He's probably sick, man, he went hard on the booze last night.”

“He won't answer the phone.” Charlie dumped the tray of dishes into the sink and pulled out a jug of bleach. Mac turned a blind eye, not even _ about _ to question it. “Maybe you should try calling him, man, he always answers the phone when it's _ you _.”

Mac shook his head and handed the glass of beer to some poof in front of him. Charlie’s remark really shouldn't have made Mac’s heart skip a beat, but he just pushed the feeling to the back of his mind, writing it off as nerves.

“I'll call him later.” Mac lied. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to Dennis after their ‘conversation’ earlier. “It’s only 8:00, the rush hasn't even started yet.”

Charlie just sighed, frustrated, and proceeded to wash the dishes with a combination of bleach and water- reminding Mac yet again why he only drank the name brand beer from glass bottles.

The night passed excruciatingly slow. Mac kept an eye out for anyone that remotely fit Dennis’ description of the man in question, his head snapping in the direction of the door every time he heard the bell ring above it. But with every hour that passed, Mac became less and less inclined to believe that the man would be returning to the bar that night.

He felt himself constantly having to pry his thoughts from Dennis. From their conversation earlier, from the way he felt waking up with Dennis in his lap. Something didn’t add up in his mind, but Mac hated dwelling on it too much.

“Bartending tonight, pretty boy?” A voice stood out from the general chatter of Paddy’s, and Mac looked up to find the asshole from last night sitting down at the bar. Fucking _ great_. What was his name, even? David? Dylan? Daniel?

Mac had to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes into the back of his head. “What do you _ want, _dude?”

* * *

Dennis wiped the fog off the bathroom mirror with the same towel he used to dry himself after his shower. After scrubbing all the dried blood and sidewalk dirt off his face, Dennis was half-expecting to look like a whole new man. However, that was not the case. He could clearly see the extent of his injuries now, tracing his fingers over his busted lip and the bruising around his eyesocket.

_ Jeez. _ Dennis was looking rough.

He wasn't feeling too hot, either. While he didn't look _ too _ terribly deformed by the brutal beating he had received the night before, flashes of his conversation with Mac kept replaying in his head. Dennis had a habit of pushing away anyone who showed any signs of caring about him. He knew it wasn’t _ healthy_, per se, but it was the only way he knew how to handle depending on other people. And with Mac, everything was just… _ Weird. _

Dennis roamed through the apartment in nothing but boxers and a towel over his shoulders. No matter the time of year, Dennis and Mac had agreed to keep the thermostat at a solid 68 degrees no matter what. But it was times like these when Dennis _ really _ needed some heat going on.

His eyes fell upon the sofa in the living room, and he sighed. Mac was _ always _ warm. Even in the winter, when they had to walk to work together because Dennis’ car wouldn’t start, Mac would be radiating body heat like he was a goddamn furnace. It was definitely a conscious decision to fall asleep against the warmth of Mac’s lap the night before, feeling his chest slowly rise and fall as Mac combed his fingers through Dennis’ curls. It was an unspoken ritual, a comforting thing between two best friends. _ And that was all Dennis had the guts to call it. _

“_It’s not about you!” _ Dennis had said it without thinking. He saw Mac’s stupid puppy dog eyes come out, that look that always _ got _ him, but he had brushed it off because he was _ pissed _.

Dennis was pissed that he had even let himself get into that situation. Pissed that he let himself become vulnerable, even for a moment. He was angry at himself, angry at Mac for caring so much, angry that he had to depend on Mac to get rid of a guy that beat him up.

And, deep down, Dennis was worried. Mac had a tendency to love as much as he hated, and those two things were not a very good mix.

Dennis had said “_Why do you even care so much?” _ and Mac had said “ _ Because I- _”

And even if Mac _ had _ managed to finish that sentence, Dennis didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want it to be _ real_, he didn’t want to have to face those messy feelings he had tucked neatly into a dark, dark corner of his heart. It scared him, and Dennis naturally coped with fear through aggression.

He spent a good chunk of his day cleaning, as any reasonable adult with nothing else better to do would. He got through the dishes, tidied up the kitchen, and folded the blanket Mac had dragged out of his bedroom the night before. It was the only blanket Mac actually had on his bed, and they had gotten into an argument about it once because Dennis thought it was animalistic of Mac to not use any sheets. He still found it disgusting, but Mac swore that he washed the comforter at _ least _ once a month.

Nonetheless, it definitely smelled strongly of Mac. Dennis hated the way Mac smelled when they first moved in together- traces of cologne and cigarettes- but over the years he found Mac’s scent to be comforting. He held the blanket up to his face and inhaled, and his senses were flooded with nothing but _ Mac _ . He knew he shouldn’t love that feeling so much, but it was like a high to him. It was like every single time they were alone together, sharing each other’s space, watching a movie or having a drunken discussion on whether or not Brad Pitt was hotter than Tom Cruise. (“_You can’t even compare them, dude-” _)

By the time the sun was just beginning to set, Dennis was shamelessly laying in Mac’s bed, staring up at the ceiling. Wondering what Mac was doing. If the guy that hurt him had come into the bar, and Mac didn’t even know. Or maybe Mac _ did _ know, and he was on his way to the ER as Dennis just lay in his bed, contemplating his life.

Dennis groaned as he stood from Mac’s bed.

He wanted to pretend that he had an _ obligation _to check up on Mac, like he wasn’t wasting away in their apartment worried about him. Like he didn’t deeply care for the asshole. Like he didn’t crave Mac’s constant attention.

Dennis begrudgingly got dressed and started on the long process of covering his wounds with makeup.

* * *

The bell above the door of Paddy’s rang, and Mac immediately turned to assess the new-

“_Dennis_?” Mac and Charlie said simultaneously, in very different tones of voice. Charlie had just grown more and more frustrated as the night pressed on, bugging Mac with questions about _ “When the hell is Dennis gonna get here? Everyone’s asking about him." _

Mac did _ not _ expect to see Dennis at the bar. Especially not looking _ that _ good. Dennis looked virtually unharmed, his wounds covered by a bulky sweater and a few layers of makeup, and he waltzed into the bar with a sort of arrogant veil around him that deemed him untouchable.

A few guys whooped in excitement as Dennis strolled through the bar and behind the counter, where Mac gave him an incredulous look.

“What the _ fuck_, Dennis?” Mac whispered harshly. “I told Charlie you were sick!”

A group of jerk-offs in tank tops sat down at the bar, trying to catch Dennis’ eye. Dennis cracked open a bottle of beer and shrugged.

“I had to come make sure you were okay.” He said nonchalantly, smiling, before he turned to address the group of flamers. “What can I get for you, fellas?”

Mac was reeling from everything that had just happened. He was simultaneously pissed, worried, _ and _ whipped. _ Make sure you were okay? _What the _ fuck _did that even mean?

Dennis lined up shot glasses for the group of guys while Charlie brought a tray of dirty dishes to the bar.

“Where the hell have you _ been_?” Charlie asked, his voice high and completely bewildered.

“I wasn’t feeling good.” Dennis said casually as he poured mixed shots of vodka and punch. “I think it was food poisoning or some shit.”

Charlie scoffed. “What’s up with the...” He gestured to Dennis’ face, particularly his busted lip that was impossible to cover up with makeup.

“It’s nothing.” Dennis finished with the group’s shots and turned his back to Charlie, pretending to get something off the counter behind him. Mac watched him, confused as all hell.

He furrowed his brows, looking between Dennis, Charlie, and their somewhat busy bar.

“Dennis, can I talk to you in the back?” Mac asked gently, only loud enough for Dennis to hear. Dennis shrugged, and that was enough for Mac. He turned to Charlie. “Hey, man, could you watch the bar real quick?”

“You gonna go chew Dennis out for being seven hours late to work?” Charlie made his way behind the bar, dumping the dishes in the sink once again.

Mac rolled his eyes. “Yeah, man, sure.” He tugged on Dennis’ sleeve and Dennis followed, grabbing his beer, a smirk still playing at his lips.

Mac closed the door to the office behind him and Dennis.

“Well, go on.” Dennis sat on the edge of the desk, blasé, looking amused as all hell. “Chew me out for being late.”

“Why are you _ here_?” Mac tried to keep his voice down, but he was all worked up now and Dennis was _ not _helping with the smug ass smile plastered on his face.

“I figured you might need help pinpointing the guy that beat me up.” Dennis shrugged the question off, taking a long swig out of his beer bottle. “Not to mention, I _ really _ want to be here when you get your ass kicked.”

Mac huffed and shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “You should be resting.” He said. “I mean, who _ knows _ what could be broken, like, _ internally_.”

Dennis patted his abdomen, only wincing a little. “I think it’s just bruised, honestly.” He said easily, like nothing was wrong. It was infuriating for Mac. Dennis stood, taking another gulp of his beer. For all Mac knew, he could’ve already been drunk.

“I think you should go home, Den.” Mac kept his voice low, trying to stay as gentle as possible. Dennis was in his ever-stubborn _ denial _ mood, and Mac didn’t want to have a repeat of that morning. “It's not safe-”

“_Mac_, there’s a bar full of people out there that came to see _ me_.” He gestured his hands around melodramatically, like he was about to go perform or some shit. “One scary dude that isn't even _ here _ isn't gonna stop me from doing my job.”

The same gross feeling as the night before settled in Mac’s stomach, and he bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying anything he'd regret. Mac couldn't stand to see Dennis like this. Careless, attention-seeking, thick-headed. He knew it was a facade, and the fact that he knew the _ real _ Dennis made it all the more unbearable. He wasn't going to stand by and let Dennis put himself in a position to get hurt.

After a few seconds and no response from Mac, Dennis just chuckled and started past him. Mac snapped out of it, prepared to say whatever he needed to say to get Dennis the hell out of the bar.

“Dennis, wait-” He reached out for Dennis' shoulder, trying to grab onto something, but Dennis already had the office door open and was slipping away from Mac.

Mac hardly had time to take a breath (and Dennis had only partially made his way out) before Dennis stumbled backwards through the door, panicking as he fumbled to shut it as quickly as possible. His entire demeanor had switched on a dime and he kept his back to Mac, mumbling some string of “_Fuck, fuck, shit, holy fuck" _as he stood with both hands pressed to the door.

“What's wrong?” Mac screwed up his face in confusion, his own heart pumping much faster than before.

Dennis' breath was quick and ragged, and his whole body seemed to be shaking. “_Fuck _.” He said under his breath.

“What happened, Den?” Mac extended a tentative hand to place on Dennis’ arm, and Dennis jumped at the contact, whipping around.

“_Don't- _” He held his hand out, a warning. “The- The guy, he's here, I-”

Dennis leaned against the door and took shaky breaths in an attempt to calm himself, but the look of terror on his face was not getting any better.

“He's _ here_?” Mac physically felt the adrenaline flood his bloodstream.

“At the pool table, _ fuck-_” Dennis covered his face with his hands and slid down the door until he was sitting, his knees pulled up to his chest.

Mac instantly dropped down to kneel in front of him.

“Hey, _ hey_, look at me, Den.” Mac struggled to keep his voice steady. “_Dennis_.”

Dennis’ whole body shook with what Mac could only define as a sob, wrenched out of the depths of his lungs. He kept his hands over his face, trying to find something to hold onto. It had been a long time since Mac had seen Dennis _ actually _ cry, and he didn't miss it.

“Dennis, _ please _ , just-” Mac felt helpless, like he was more of a nuisance than anything. He reached out and took gentle hold of Dennis’ wrist. “_Hey_, just look at me for a sec.” He said, almost a whisper.

Dennis sniffled and let Mac take his wrist, lowering his hands. Oh, _ shit_. Dennis was a wreck. It tore Mac to pieces.

Dennis looked Mac in the eyes, blinking back more tears, and Mac took Dennis’ hand in his own. He absentmindedly fit his own fingers between Dennis’, a soothing ritual, something to calm them both down.

“I'm gonna go out there,” Mac said, managing to keep his voice stable. “And I'm gonna tell him to leave, okay?”

Dennis nodded, his eyes glossy and red from crying. He swallowed hard and gripped Mac’s hand, trying to control his breathing.

Mac felt his eyes drifting from Dennis' gaze to his busted lips, to his thin fingers, then back to his face again. Never in his life had he felt more compelled to just say _ fuck it _ and give into whatever impulses his heart told him to do. To hold him, to comb his fingers through Dennis' hair, kiss the crown of his head and make him feel safe. Out of all the terrible choices he could've made at that moment, Mac simply held Dennis’ shaky hand, bringing it up to gently press his lips to Dennis’ knuckles.

Dennis drew a short breath (or maybe it was just a sniffle) and watched Mac as he squeezed Dennis' hand and stood back up with a grunt.

“Mac, please don't-” Dennis’ eyes followed him up. “Don't get hurt, okay?”

“I won't.” Mac said, unsure of whether or not it was a lie. His mind was cloudy and he wasn't exactly sure how he'd react in the moment.

After watching Dennis fall apart on the office floor, however, Mac was pretty sure he'd have to kill this guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long chapter! how we feelin?


	6. Chapter 6

Beard? _ Check_.

Jacket? _ Check_.

Douchebag? _ Check_.

Mac could barely even feel himself walking towards the guy. Every other noise from the bar was muffled besides the routine _ crack _ of billiard balls hitting each other, and Mac’s feet carried him unconsciously towards the pool table and right up to the guy that hurt Dennis.

_ The guy that hurt Dennis_.

“Hey, man.” Mac put a hand on the asshole’s shoulder, turning him from the pool game- albeit more aggressively than intended.

_ The guy that hurt Dennis _ gave Mac a look that would've probably terrified anyone else in his shoes. “What the hell is your problem, prick?” He set his pool cue against the table and threw his hands up.

“Party’s over, man, you gotta leave.” Mac said curtly, jutting his chin towards the door as he spoke.

The guy let out a short laugh. “Who the fuck are you, the _ bouncer_?”

Mac felt rage simmering in his blood and he clenched his jaw, _ hard_. “I'm not gonna ask you again, bro.”

The guy shot an amused glance back to his dickwad buddies, who looked equally as biker gang-y as he did. “You won't have to, ‘_bro’ _.” He said as he turned back to Mac with a smirk.

And just when Mac thought he had successfully avoided a major conflict, the guy _ moved_. Mac barely had time to process what was happening before he felt the force of a punch land square on his face, sending him stumbling backwards, reeling.

Mac could hear laughter through the ringing in his ears. He was being _ laughed _ at. Just like high school, just like getting beat up in the courtyard for pissing off the wrong guys. They would laugh at him, and he would run home to cry, call Dennis, and get high to forget about it all. That's how it always went down.

Mac straightened himself out, the white hot pain splintering through his eyesocket only fueling his rage more. This wasn't high school.

When _The guy who hurt Dennis _ turned to gauge his buddies’ reactions, Mac took advantage of his distraction and lunged at him. He managed to knock the guy flat on his back, earning some _ “Whoa!”_s from onlookers at the bar.

And then Mac was swinging. Blow after blow, his fists made explosive contact with the asshole’s face, his nose, his cheek, his head. It was almost like he was in a trance, completely out of it, only focused on the sound of bones breaking and the feeling of blood on his knuckles. Blow after blow.

“_Holy shit, Mac, fucking stop!” _ Dee’s shrill voice called out, and Mac was being dragged away from _ The guy who hurt Dennis_. One of the guy's goons held Mac steady as someone else in _ Philadelphia’s shittiest biker gang _ took a swing at him, punching Mac in the face yet again. And again.

Mac felt the force of an impact on his nose, followed by a distinct _ crunch _and the shock of immediate pain surge through his face. He felt his head lull to the side and his body go limp, and the support of the asshole holding him down was gone in an instant.

Mac heard screaming around him as he came back to his senses, no longer being held down and pummeled. His chest was heaving, and from the corner of his vision he saw _ The guy who hurt Dennis _ sit up from where he had been knocked down. Everything went red.

Mac went in for round two, getting to his feet to yank the asshole up by his hair and plant one good blow to his face, knocking him back down to the floor. But he wasn't nearly done. He wanted this douchebag to hurt. Mac slammed his head backwards into the concrete of the floor, stunning him, and proceeded to land punches on his face, despite the screaming from onlookers around him.

“_Mac_!” It was Charlie’s voice, now, but it meant nothing to Mac. “_Stop, you’re gonna fucking kill him_!”

Mac felt himself say “_Good_” as he grabbed the guy by the collar and slammed him back into the concrete yet again, waiting for another gang member to try to stop him. But no one came. And Mac didn't stop.

Intent on pounding this guy’s face in until he was unrecognizable, Mac landed another blow to the guy’s nose. He couldn't even stop himself at that point, blinded by rage and the desperate need for revenge, unsure of whose blood belonged to whom.

Mac wanted him to hurt as badly as he hurt Dennis.

Through the screams and pleas to “_Fucking stop!”_, only one voice was distinct from the rest, and it was getting closer.

“Mac, _ please_, it's over!” Mac felt a hand on his arm. “Let him go before you kill him, _ please_!”

It was Dennis’ voice. The only one that actually made sense to him anymore, the only one that _ mattered_. It was like a light in the darkness, some clarity to a situation that was beyond Mac’s control.

Mac released his grip on the guy’s collar and stumbled back, his head swimming, dizzy as all hell. He leaned against the pool table and surveyed the room. About fifteen customers stood around them, eyes on _ The guy who hurt Dennis_, who was laying on the floor, gasping for breath.

Dennis squeezed Mac’s arm and he met his gaze, feeling blood drip down over his mouth. Dennis scanned over the damages, fear in his eyes.

_ Great_. Now Dennis was just as terrified of Mac as he was of the asshole Mac just beat up.

Mac wiped the dripping blood off with the back of his hand and cleared his throat. “I'm sorry.” He said, his voice raspy and desperate.

Dennis barely shook his head. In one sudden, swift movement, Dennis was wrapping his arms around Mac in a tight embrace, taking Mac completely off-guard.

Mac didn't even have the brain capacity to question it anymore. As Dennis buried his face into the space between Mac’s neck and his shoulder, Mac returned the hug, holding Dennis close to him.

“_Alright_, show’s over, everyone get the hell out.” Dee announced, somewhere to Mac’s left. 

Murmurs erupted from the crowd of onlookers, but they all filed out of the bar without much protest. Charlie and Dee aided in getting them all to leave, occasionally popping off a “_get the fuck out” _ before it was just the four of them and the unconscious man on their floor.

“I'm not gonna dispose of a dead body.” Charlie said to Dee, standing with his hands on his hips.

“He's not even _ dead_, idiot!”

Dennis stepped out of Mac’s arms, looking him in the eyes. “You might've gotten beaten up worse than I did.” He chuckled lightly.

“How fucked up is my nose?” Mac smiled a crooked, bloody smile, which Dennis returned.

“It's _ definitely _ broken.” Dennis reached up to touch Mac’s nose, but Mac caught his hand just in time.

“Well don't _ touch _ it, asshole!” Mac laughed, not letting go of Dennis’ hand.

Both of the two men’s gazes fell to their hands, Dennis’ fingers fitting neatly into the spaces between Mac’s. They exchanged a glance, more tender than before, something unspoken in the air between them.

Charlie dragged the unconscious body out the back door of the bar, with no help from Dee whatsoever. Instead, Dee turned to her tip jar, pouring the money out on one of the tables and beginning to count it. Mac couldn't care less about his tips for the night. He was sure it had to be more than usual, but for the moment, Mac was perfectly content in his little bubble with Dennis. 

By the time the adrenaline died down and the other half of the gang split to return to their homes, Mac and Dennis piled into the Range Rover and hit the road to their apartment. They made the drive in silence, the wind from the open windows the only sound between them. For the first time ever, Mac didn't know what to do with his hands. He twiddled his thumbs, ran his fingers through his hair, and even stuck a hand out the window to feel the cool breeze on his skin. 

Dennis unlocked the apartment door to let them in, and the comfort of being home washed over Mac like a refreshing breath of cool air. The only thing on his mind was _ sleep_, and he headed towards his room, muttering a “_night_” to Dennis. 

“Hey, Mac-” Dennis said, sounding smaller than usual. Mac stopped, turning to face him. 

“Yeah?” He cocked a brow. 

“Did you maybe wanna, like, watch a movie in here or something?” Dennis asked. 

Mac felt the edge of his lips pull at a smile. “I'll fall asleep immediately.” He said. 

Dennis smiled, too. “Maybe you should get two blankets this time, then.” He suggested, and Mac knew exactly what this was about. 

Without having to think too hard about it, Mac knew that he probably, most likely, _ definitely _ loved Dennis. And if he _ did _ think too hard about it, maybe Dennis might love him, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to keep writing in this au so let me know if you guys want any more!!! I have a few canon-divergent plans cookin up :^)


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